


Buzzing

by EldritchOnMain



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Author And Character Share Medical Issues, Bad Flirting, Because Mozzie Doesn't Have A Consistent Design For Some Reason, Canon - Video Game, Gratuitous Swearing, M/M, Pining, Rating will change, Size Difference, Tags will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 12:37:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21179534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchOnMain/pseuds/EldritchOnMain
Summary: Ryad is having some trouble sleeping, but that's nothing out of the ordinary. What's different this time is the annoying buzzing that seems to be following him around. He tries his best, he really does, but sleep deprivation and critical thinking go together about as well as a loudmouth and a tired person. How long will it take before the little bug gets squashed?





	1. A Oler La Lavanda

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic using the in-game model of Mozzie for reference. I don't know why they made every instance of him look different, but I'm pissed about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a simple being, I see a man shorter than me and I am consumed by the need to manhandle him. Who better to do that than the second tallest operator? 
> 
> And yes, I know Mozzie "has a wife" and is "expecting twins", but how about this? The only canon I feel inclined to abide by is Jackal's medical issues because that's actually useful information, it's real character building, not sticking "oh and he has a wife who he loves very much" on the end of a psych report. Also I share the same issues so, like, mood.
> 
> Much like everything else I write (please don't look too far into this, just because I write it doesn't mean I post or even finish it), this will become porn. Enjoy it while it's...fluff isn't the right word. Enjoy it while it's Not Porn, because things will ramp up very soon. Eventually. Probably. Hopefully.

It had been a long week, much like the one before, and the one before that. Much like how the next one will be. It was a familiar pattern that Ryad had found some amount of comfort in, regardless of what Gustave had repeatedly told him. Slightly warped trays of foil-covered plastic that remained unpierced lay scattered across the bedside table, glinting in the morning light that peaked through curtains he hadn’t bothered to close properly. He’d been laying there since it had been dark, staring at the various types of medication that had been prescribed to him by the kind doctor, and as many times as he considered it he would always come to the same conclusion.

“Well, it’s too late now...” He muttered to himself, swinging his legs to stand in the pyjamas that he’d only put on a couple of hours ago, hoping that the added comfort would aid him in some way. It never did, but there was no reason in not trying. The world wobbled as he rose, the shadows at the corners of his vision grasping out with spindly, contorted fingers. Bringing a hand up to rub away the hallucinations, Ryad realised that the alarm on his watch hadn’t been set right as the tiny “6pm” flashed at him. So really, he rationalised, it had been a good thing that he couldn’t sleep because he never would have woken up on time, therefore taking the medication would have been a mistake. If he’d taken the meds, he would have slept in, missed who knows how long of the day, and probably would have been yelled at by whoever the higher up at this post was. Henry? Harry? It doesn’t matter, his system worked. 

He was in the shower before he’d registered that he’d left his room, warm water cascading over his bare shoulders as he zoned back in from blankly staring at the off-white wall tiles. Remembering to blink manually, he realised he’d forgotten to actually rub his eyes from before, having been distracted by his alarm mishap. 

“Ah, fuck.” He grumbled to himself with what some would consider a distinct lack of concern as the movement of his arm threw off his balance, his previously warm back connecting with the metal wall of his shower stall. Hissing at the arctic British winter temperatures contrasting with the near boiling heat he liked his water at, he quickly fumbled his way back under the stream as he braced himself against the one sturdy, tiled wall. The walls steadied themselves back into their usual stationary position and Ryad wondered what flavour of coffee he was going to get once he’d finished up here.

“Came in at a bad time, ay? You know we’ve all got private bunks, right? But I mean if it’s an exhibitionism thing then I totally understand.” The chuckle that seemed to come from ground level grated against his ear just wrong. If it hadn’t been for how deep the voice had sounded, he would have assumed someone had taken a wrong turn, although he wasn’t actually certain about whether or not this particular post cared enough to gender it’s facilities. It’s not as if his eyes were ever focused enough to see the tiny distinction between the...dress? Skirt? Whatever loose piece of fabric it was supposed to represent. 

His mind drifted, distracted by the idea that the symbols actually indicated which bathroom Seamus could use when he was in his full Scottish garb. It’s not like the person outside actually expected a response, surely? No one would be this sociable with not only a complete stranger in, but a strange that they assumed was masturbating in the public showers. 

“No response? Alright, I’ll take that as a yes. Mind if I hop in, or would that kill the mood? ‘Cause I fuckin’ stink, Tori said if I don’t wash up before brekky she’s gonna strap me to her buggy and drag me through that bog out back. Don’t doubt it, either.” Whoever it was, they sounded way too peppy for whatever-time-in-the-morning, and their voice seemed to align perfectly with the rumble that his sleepless brain had decided was the appropriate ambient noise for the room. It was like his sleep deprivation had developed a voice, and considering all the other symptoms he was experiencing today it perhaps wasn’t as far enough from consideration than he would have liked.

Ryad’s face scrunched in disgust as the nastiest, trashiest smelling shower gel he could have ever experienced assaulted his senses. He sucked in a sharp breath as brief fury washed over him, dissipating just as quickly as it had come. Flipping open his own gel, he held it to his face so he could breathe it in. The soothing scent of lavender flooded his nose, immediately taking effect and allowing him to relax just that little bit that makes the days easier. Makeshift aromatherapy had become a part of his routine and he wasn’t going to let some disgusting, Lynx-type bullshit that was probably called something stupid like “Mountain Range” or “Glacier” ruin one of the steps he enjoyed the most. 

Piercing whistling echoed throughout the room, distorting whatever song his shower neighbour had originally planned and twisting it to become a cacophony of sharp sounds. Perhaps he had gone to sleep. Perhaps this was a nightmare. Perhaps if he ran his water freezing cold and turned the shower head just right, it would catch the person in the next stall. After debating the idea of admittedly too long, Ryad tried to just power through it, doing his best to block out whatever horrid parakeet had possessed the guy next to him. 

The taps squealed as he cut the water off. With a few suds still dripping down his body, he ripped the shower curtain to one side, hurriedly pulling his towel from where he’d draped it over the curtain rail and wrapping it around him as his hands worked in the wrong order. Damp feet slapped and threatened to slip against the freezing cold floor as small puddles quickly pooled in the cracks and crevices. After a brief look in the foggy mirror, he decided to forgo shaving in his haste. It’s not like his facial hair grew particularly quick anyway. 

“Aw, leavin’ already? I thought we were really hittin’ it off...” Anything else that was being said blurred into a drone. The more time he spent in here, the more his willpower to restrain his frustrated responses wore down. He was beginning to forget that he was supposed to be a professional, and that cussing people out who get on your nerves wasn’t, in fact, a valid response in the workplace. Fuck it, he was dry enough. He struggled to pull his trousers up while keeping the towel in place, cloth dragging and sticking to his still wet skin in ways that overloaded his senses, but there was no time to stop and adjust. Desperately wanting to restart his whole dressing experience but dedicating himself to the terribly inefficient, roundabout way he’d started with, he finally pushed the towel off of his waist as his pulled everything into place, quickly throwing on his shirt and hoping it was the right way around. He gathered his hygiene products up in the sodden cloth at a pace he reserved only for important deadlines and bundled it up for easier transport. Of course he’d forgotten to bring a bag with him. 

Opening the door to the hallway, the countryside air stabbed at his cooling flesh like tiny knives of ice as he hurried his way back to his bunk to drop his stuff off, praying that the kitchen would still have bagels available by the time he managed to get to the mess hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone better appreciate the sheer amount of filtering I have to do to be able to write Mozzie's dialogue in a way that people can actually understand. He and I have the same manner of speaking, so I'm really toning it down to be comprehensible while staying authentically british.
> 
> I'd say leave a comment to help motivate me to write more of this, but you'll have pry this rarepair from my cold, dead hands. You'll beg for me to stop posting some of the ideas I have. You'll think this is tame. Be warned. Be scared. Be ready to completely forget this ship exists because I have a terrible work ethic and am easily distracted.


	2. Un Momento Extraño Para Ponerse Tímido

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bastard is back, and this time he's got company!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is a relatable situation and not something oddly specific that I've had to witness multiple times...

Ryad snapped awake as his body jolted from its micro nap, his elbow sliding out from where his arm had been precariously holding his head up with a low grumble, rapidly blinking to try and clear the bleariness from his sight. Uproarious laughter rang through the dim cafeteria as someone told what must have been the world’s funniest joke. He checked his watch. Ten minutes. He’d managed to sleep for ten more minutes, which meant that he’d now gotten a total of two hours and twenty minutes of sleep in the past twenty-four hours. Ryad took a victorious bite of his cold bagel, counting it as a win. Gustave would love to hear about this advancement in his unmedicated system.

“-and so there I was, right, and this cunt was moanin’ and gruntin’ and shit like you wouldn’t fuckin’ believe! And I was like ‘Mate, you know this is a public bathroom, right?’ and he went all quiet as if-!” He slapped at the worn wooden table and had a brief wheeze, “as if he’d never expected anyone to actually fuckin’ walk in on him! Oh my god, Tori, I’m-” A head of damp blond hair threw itself back as he dissolved into a fit of giggles. The considerably larger woman who sat patiently next to him smirked, shaking her head slightly, unable to keep the disbelief off of her face. “Ah come on, of all the horseshit I spew this has to be the most believable. Y’know what squaddies are like!” Knocking her with his elbow with enough force to make her whole body sway, somewhat aggressively prompting her to agree with him in some way, he downed whatever was in his cup in one disgustingly audible gulp.

“Anyways, don’t supposh yof goa thha hingmedo fo-ACK!” The woman brought a hand up and smacked the back of his head. A half-chewed mouthful of Cheerios went flying across the table, some landing with a faint, wet thump and some coming to a skittering halt an almost impressive distance away from the cereal canon.

“For God’s sake, eat with ya fuckin’ mouth shut!” The woman, presumably Tori, shouted with a type of frustration that gave off the impression that this wasn’t the first time the guy had needed to be reminded of this. Ryad looked down, past the lukewarm cup of coffee he’d had floating between the table and his mouth, to where he’d felt a tiny impact on his foot. A couple of pieces had skid their way across the floor and come in contact with him, yet he couldn’t find it within himself to muster up an expression of anything more than neutral disappointment.

He looked back up at the squabbling two only to lock eyes with the notorious Tori. Blinking slowly, his gaze flickered between the two before falling back down to his half eaten breakfast. Gustave’s voice rang through his mind, telling him that he had to eat to fuel his mind. Maybe the coffee would kick in soon.

“-at do ya mean ‘I bothered him’, he’s clearly not payin’ any fuckin’ attention. And, uh, since when have you cared about the opinion of some fuckin’ Billy No-Mates? Look at him, sittin’ in the corner, by himself, prolly doesn’-” Ryad bit down into his food, taking on a mouthful a little too large to chew comfortably, but once again wanting to leave a place that typically brought him comfort. Swallowing harshly, he downed the rest of the bitter coffee, and stuffed the rest of his breakfast into his mouth.

“Goose, from the bottom of my heart, please shut the fuck up.” Her hands were positioned like she was praying, the tips of her pointer fingers pinching at the bridge of her nose and eyes shut tight with undeniable irritation. They seemed like friends, how could she put up with him for so long if this was what could only be assumed to be a typical morning? He went to grab his rubbish, crumpling the thin baking paper they’d served his food with and stuffing it into the basically empty cardboard cup.

Closing his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, he tried to zone out the chatter, the clinking of cutlery and the scuff of boots. The stinging in his eyes subsided a little. He needed to get to his work. If nothing else was going to bring him any joy today, then maybe making some progress in his assignment would. If he left now, he would dodge the doctor’s usual path on his way back to his office, which might only be delaying the inevitable but Ryad was desperate for any small victory at this point.

“Oh, yeah? So what if he hears me, what’s he gonna fuckin’...d-do...” Perhaps it was the way they’d both been positioned in front of him, with the table obscuring how folded up Ryad had to sit on the tiny, plastic stools made for people with much shorter legs than him. They didn’t get to see how uncomfortably his knees dug into the underside of the table. As he stood, the silence that dawned was blissful. He fought off the smirk that threatened to give away his plan. It was going to be cheesy, it was going to be a complete rip off of a move that he’d always wanted to try out from his guilty pleasure TV show, but if everything came together for just the next few seconds he would have to rethink the overall success of this day.

Taking long, only partially exaggerated strides towards the bins, he caught Tori’s gaze and gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. One step past them, two steps, half a step, pause. Bring a hand up to scratch chin, turn with a quizzical expression, and pose. The blond had put his head in his hand in an attempt to look natural while also making every effort to look away from Ryad’s direction. If the red tips of his ears peeking through his messy hair hadn’t been enough of a giveaway, the way Tori was going pink in the face from the strain of holding in her laughter certainly was.

“You talk very loudly for someone who seems afraid of confrontation.” Ryad tried to drawl in the most nonchalant way he could manage, although the adrenaline coursing through his veins at getting the upper hand after a morning full of missteps was making it difficult. He quickly noticed how rapidly the blond had started bouncing his leg in response to his comment, and how Tori’s eyes had widened, glimmering with amusement. She roughly bit at her lip as she stared intently at her friend, like she was daring him to say something, rubbing it in his face that he’d been called out by someone other than her without using any words. He only hunched over further, knotting his fingers in his hair as he turned his head to look directly down at the table.

Ok, good, now breathe, calmly, last few steps. Shrug, make a noncommittal noise, and turn back around in one smooth motion without looking behind to see if the way was clear. Lucky. Now keep walking forwards until there’s an isolated corner to celebrate around. Ignore the heartbeat deafening every other sound. Ignore the gross feeling of clammy palm sweat.

As the doors to the mess hall swung back and forth on their hinges, the sound of a lungful of air being wheezed out all at once cut through the other muted conversations like someone had let go of a balloon. Ryad quickly turned the corner, reflexively bringing the cup he’d forgotten to throw away up to his face only to have the harsh edges of the scrunched up paper scratch his nose. A drop of coffee fell into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the second chapter basically ready to go before I'd actually posted the first, please don't expect every update to be posted anywhere near as quickly.
> 
> I'm also not 100% happy with this but I can't figure out why for the life of me so just take it. I crave attention too much to withhold an entire chapter just to be able to tweak it a little bit privately, especially when very few people will read this anyway.
> 
> More coming soon, hopefully! I know exactly how I want this whole thing to pan out, it's just the actual process of writing it that's the issue...


	3. Un Ganso Salvaje

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tori is a good friend and helps Goose apologise for being a bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, without changing any of my formatting, paragraph spacing doesn't transfer through copy+pasting anymore, so if there's a chunk of text that seems kinda funky then I probably just missed it as I was going through trying to fix stuff. That or I just write badly, you'll never know.

Ducking back to his bunk for a moment, Ryad fell back onto his bed and let out a sigh. The adrenaline had subsided a little, but he couldn’t quite shake the dumb grin from his face. It’d been a long time since he’d last put effort into being considered cool, and it’d been even longer since he’d successfully managed to do so, but the way that Tori woman had reacted made his chest swell with childish pride. A win, regardless of whether it was a completely meaningless win against someone he’d never talk to again, was still a win, and was something he’d desperately needed in the midst of all of his frustration. So what if it didn’t actually mean anything? So what if it wasn’t the sort of thing he could brag about at his next appointment? Gustave had told him that he needed to celebrate the small victories more, but then never bothered to specify what counted as such.

The caffeine had started to kick in, the pins and needles in his eyes were easier to blink away and it didn’t feel like his head was half a second out of sync with the rest of the world. He went to stand up and the movement only caused the walls to tremble slightly. Today was going to be a good day, he could feel it. It had been rocky at the start, but it seemed like the world was ready to make it up to him.

He pulled his worn out laptop bag over his shoulder, fumbling with the collar of his jacket so that it didn’t dig into his neck quite so much, and made his way to the door. Checking himself out one last time in the small mirror that hung on the inside of his closest door, he grunted as he remembered something and spun around, scanning the room. Tugging the hairband off, he scooped the loose hair that had managed to escape since he’d sloppily tied it after his shower. He ran a brush through it a couple of times before giving up on trying to make it any neater, letting the dark curls and waves breaking formation wherever they liked.

He stood captivated by over his image vainly, trying to ignore the bags under his eyes and ever growing crows feet. Pushing away the creeping existential crisis, he plucked the large rimmed glasses from his desk, slotting them onto his face and blinked a little as a small window of the world came into focus. He was tired of hearing his optician nagging him about ‘preventative measures’, but Elena had said he looked cute in them when he’d seen her last, so that was the excuse he’d give when asked why he’d started wearing them frequently again.

Cracking his neck, he pulled the door open and began making his way to his work station. He hadn’t even made it out of his door before he was greeted by two passing figures that looked suspiciously like the two he’d met briefly in the cafeteria. Ryad made a sputtered noise in his disbelief that caused Tori to turn to look at him in surprise.  
She tilted her head to the side and slowed her walking down, keeping her focus locked with his as the guy next to her stumbled at the change of pace. Like a large, mischievous pixie, she slapped a hand tight onto her friend’s shoulder, spinning him around and clamping him in place. 

“What a coincidence, I was just telling my mate here that he should apologise the next time he sees you. No point in causing bad blood on our first day, ay, Goose?” The clench of her grip on his shoulder implied deceit, but the glee on her face painted a vivid picture of desperately wanting to humiliate him. Ryad was too preoccupied with the knowledge that he hadn’t misheard her the first time she’d referred to her friend by name to think too hard about it. Was his actual name really Goose, or was it a nickname? He was so curious, but at the same time didn’t want anything to do with the two of them ever again.

“Yeah, nah, I think he gets it, thanks Tor-” As Goose tried to turn to leave again, Tori gave a devilish smile that conveyed her exact intentions, the grip on his shoulder not even budging. 

“That’s not very fuckin' polite, Goose.” She stressed his name as she pulled him in front of her, positioning him between her and where Ryad was still standing in his doorway. “You promised you’d try to be less of a cunt once we got here, so how ‘bout you start applying that, hmm? I’ll go get our stuff and I’ll meet you there, yeah? Alright.” Tori slapped Goose’s back hard enough to make him stumble.

“Wait, Tori, c’mon-” Goose hopelessly called after her, but she’d already sped away, muttering something under her breath that her thick accent was making difficult to understand. There was a beat of silence, and it was only then that Ryad could really appreciate how much he towered over the much smaller man in front of him. It looked like he had to strain his neck just to make eye contact, like Ryad would have to bend over to place his chin on top of that scruffy blond hair. Something dastardly stirred deep within him as he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the door frame and cocking an eyebrow as if to prompt the other man to say the first word.  
The quietness of the empty hallway finally made Goose crack under the waiting gaze, quickly shoving his hands in his pockets and taking on what most would consider a relaxed, carefree posture if it hadn’t been for the red tips of his ears. The familiar scenario pulled a lazy grin across Ryad’s face, causing the other to quickly look down at his feet and scuff a boot against the floor.

“Shit, mate, look, I was only joshin’, y’know I didn’t mean anythin’ by it.” He'd said it in such a casual tone that Ryad was almost surprised when his voice cracked on the last word. Clearing his throat, his incredibly fake smirk only wavered slightly when he realised he'd let his eyes linger a touch too long on Ryad's face.  
“That’s all well and good, but I don’t appreciate you spreading lies about me, either.” It was a simple sentence that he didn’t think he’d have to add anything to, given the context. Goose, however, seemed to be struggling, being somewhere between confused and lost in his own thoughts.

“The showers?” He prompted after a few seconds of watching the cogs turn with no results. Goose’s eyes widened significantly and his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.  
“Fuck, that was you?” His voice came out a little high as pink began to dust across his cheekbones, his whole body tensing up in a way that made him look like he was trying to retract into his own skin. “I mean, y’know, ya never answered, I just assumed. Ya gotta admit, it did kinda sound like you were…” He coughed nervously, looking quickly away from Ryad’s unimpressed expression back to the spot on the wall he’d been looking at previously. “Look, I’m sorry for-...for sayin’ that. It’s just, fuckin’, larkin’ about, yeah?” He pulled a hand out of his pocket to rub at the back of his neck, mussing his hair and unintentionally showing the contrast of the tanned skin of his arm and the pink stripe across his face.

“Whatever,” Ryad tried to think quickly, but he’d drawn a complete blank, “...Ganso. At this rate, you’ll have to apologise for making me late for my meeting.” It was at the tip of his tongue, but it just wasn’t coming to him. He’d heard it spoken enough times to remember what it started with, and he knew what it was in Spanish, but what was the English for it? The bird, the asshole bird, a ganso, and the other word for it was…

Ryad’s watch beeped at him, indicating that he only had a few minutes to get to where he needed to be. He snapped out of his thoughts and clumsily turned the alarm off. Looking back at where Goose was still standing, he noticed that he’d brought the hand from his neck around in an attempt to cover his face, trying and failing to subtly turn his head away from Ryad’s direction. He tried to hide it like he was just scratching at his stubble, but when Ryad listened closely he could hear the whisper of the word ‘ganso’. Was he mocking him? After his apology that wasn’t even really an apology, he was going to make fun of him for not being able to remember the translation of a word? 

Ryad frowned down at him, nudging his glasses back up his nose and mumbling a dismissive farewell, he briskly pushed past him, only slightly aware that his shoulder completely cleared the poor man and it was instead his elbow that had come into contact with him. Perhaps he’d think about it later and find it mildly interesting, or maybe he'd be concerned that he’d hurt him in some way, but at that very moment he just wanted to get to his work, to get lost in the problem solving that he knew he was good at. In the back of his mind, he vaguely acknowledged the quiet voice stumbling over words of agreement, but didn’t really pay any attention to what was being said.

He went to turn the corner, glimpsing back to see if Goose was going to follow. The last thing he wanted was to make awkward small talk while they walked in the same direction for however long. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the man fell back heavily against the wall, bringing both of his hands up to roughly drag them down his face in a defeated display. But that wasn’t Ryad’s problem right now, or hopefully ever. He had places to be, problems to solve, assignments to finish. He didn’t need this, and he definitely didn’t need it to keep happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come to the unfortunate conclusion that Mozzie/Jackal is just Scout/Sniper for R6S


	4. Acoso accidental en el lugar de trabajo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When mozzies torment you, can you really blame them? Aren't they just acting on instinct?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't post for ages, it started out with the usual winter lapse in sleep stability making me ill, but then I had literal, living bugs infesting my laptop. Like. Just straight up insects coming out of my keyboard. Every day is a struggle. 
> 
> Enjoy me subjecting a character to the pestering of a completely different kind of bug.

“Thank you all for your patience.” Harry didn’t stop to exchange the usual pleasantries as he quickly bustled through the door and made his way to a pile of folders and files that had been neatly organised on his desk. Plucking the bundle of papers that he needed from the lot, he paused for a moment, looking at the slight mess he had made, before regretfully turning to speed-walk back towards the door.

“I’m sorry I can’t stick around today,” He waved the papers in his hand for emphasis, “important business to attend to. While I’m gone, I’d appreciate it if you could fill our new part-time consultant, Mr. Goose, in on your current progress with various tasks, see where he can lend a hand.” He paused and turned back to the fairly small room of people, briefly gauging everyone’s reaction, before decidedly turning back around to leave. “I trust you’ll treat him with respect, despite his, uh, unique vernacular. I have told him to be more thoughtful but…” He trailed off, checking his watch and exhaling sharply.

Poor guy, in the past few days it’d been back-to-back reports, consults, every task people could possibly be giving him. He was barely keeping up, but he wouldn’t have gotten so far in this job if he couldn’t handle it. That didn’t stop the team from worrying about him, but the thought did ease their minds a little. Considering that was the guy currently paying their salaries, it was much more pleasant to believe that their financial stability doesn’t reside in the hands of someone who seems one more “as per my last email” away from disregarding professionalism for a few seconds of satisfaction. 

Harry reached for the door, but jumped as it swung open, barely avoiding being hit by it as a scruffy-looking blond came bustling through. 

“Ah, fuck, sorry mate, didn’ see ya there, I-” Goose stumbled over his words, glancing somewhat skittishly around the room, clearly understanding what a terrible first impression he was making.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, I’m fine. I really must be goi-” Fidgeting with his tie, Harry began to step past the man in the doorway, but got stopped when a hand was placed on his arm.

“Uh, who should I-” It was like someone who had never whispered once in his life was attempting to speak quietly based solely on how whispering had been described to him. This stage whisper did nothing to hide the uncertainty in Goose’s voice, despite the cheery smirk plastered across his face.

“Doesn’t matter, anyone will do, just ask around and someone will find something for you. Now, really, I need to go.” Ignoring the hand, Harry continued on, desperate to leave and at least attempt to be somewhat on schedule.

“Yeah, shit, sorry. Ok, I’ll just-” But he was gone, already pacing it down the corridor and turning the corner before the sentence could even be finished. Goose turned towards the room, swallowing and flashing a grin of fake confidence after being thrown into the deep end with apparently literally no idea of what he was supposed to be doing. He shoved his hands in his pockets in an attempt to look casual, scanning the room for any indication of invitation, but everyone had either already gotten back to their work, or hadn’t stopped in the first place.

Ryad quickly placed his head in his hand, trying to block line of sight as he stared uselessly down at his work, his thoughts too busy swirling around his head to tune in to what he was supposed to be doing. All of the effort he’d put into spending as little time around the obnoxious newcomer as possible, he’d had to adjust everything important aspect of his daily routine, and it was all in vain. He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to remember anything other than what had happened in the shower earlier today. The sound of footsteps approaching him snapped him back to impending reality.

“Hey, uh, what’s up? Mind if I…?” Goose indicated to the cheap-looking office chair tucked under the small table Ryad had decided to claim as his work station. He sighed, gesturing meaninglessly at the chair and picking up a pen as if to start doing his actual work. Plastic wheels rolled against carpet and the chair creaked as a weight was placed on it, and again as it was scooted back towards the table. The sound of a tongue clicking made Ryad tense and look up to see his new colleague twiddling his thumbs and biting his lip. The room seemed uncomfortably quiet, as if everyone around them had hushed their conversations just to single them out, which was nonsense, but after today he couldn’t rule out his peers conspiring against him to orchestrate this entire thing.

“I, uh, I never caught your name?” Perhaps there might have been a reason? He sighed again. It seemed like it was finally time to give in and accept the fact that introductions had become necessary. He can’t skirt around the issue any more if they’re supposed to be working together. 

“Ryad.” Concise, strictly professional, almost like the first time they spoke hadn’t been while they were both naked. His eyes unfocused as he retreated into his head, desperately trying to will those stupid intrusive thoughts away.

The sound of his name being softly repeated back at him brought him back and he frowned. No, that’s not how it’s supposed to sound. Not that Goose had gotten the pronunciation wrong or anything, he’d just said it so delicately, as if anything more than testing it on his tongue would break it somehow. Or the way an Australian accent put unique emphasis on the ‘y’, how it made it sound softer, lighter in a way he could never put into words. It drifted and swirled around his brain.

It sounded...nice.

“I’m Max, ‘though ‘Ganso’ works just fine, if ya like.” He laughed, any remaining anxiety melting away with every word, letting the same brash confidence that Ryad had first experienced finally start to shine through. “That’s what ya said before, ain’t it?” Ryad hummed in agreement, but didn’t bother to verbally confirm. He asked it as a question, but with a tone that indicated he knew the answer already, and from how the tips of his ears had turned pink in a way that evidently wasn’t connected to general nervousness, it seemed like an answer he’d been thinking about a lot since that encounter.

Ryad’s thoughts jolted. It was a coincidence, obviously, it was his job to find patterns in things, to identify connections between subjects others couldn’t see. That’s why he was being paid so well. But if he’d been purposefully trying to avoid interactions with this man, why did the circumstances which caused him to flush stick so firmly in his mind? And why didn’t the knowledge sit well with him?

“I swear I’ve heard that before somewhere, but I can’t put my finger on it...” Max rubbed his chin in thought, dark blond stubble that looked like it hadn’t been shaved in about a day and a half scratched harshly against his nails. Short nails, like he had a nail biting problem. 

Stop over-analysing.

“Sorry, I forgot what your name was in English and I’d left my translation dictionary in my other jeans. It just means ‘Goose’.” Luckily Max had caught on to his deadpan attempt at humour because the words had escaped him before he’d weighed the pros and cons of yet another coworker questioning his grasp on the English language. 

“Cool, yeah, sure, keep callin’ me that if ya like, I don’ mind.” Ryad smirked before he could catch himself. It didn’t actually mean anything, obviously, but wouldn’t anyone else have let it go? A stranger's meaningless nickname shouldn’t weigh on your mind so much. The image of how he’d left Max in that corridor half an hour or so beforehand flashed in his mind, and he couldn’t help but trail a metaphorical finger along the metaphorical thread that tied the two events together. He couldn’t be making something out of nothing, surely, because that required there to be a want for a connection. It made sense. 

He shook his head and looked at the time, remembering the task at hand that some might consider more important than whatever he was trying to achieve by toying with the guy who’d been causing him nothing but grief all morning. Pushing his glasses back up his nose in a subconscious shift-in-concentration ritual, he picked up and quickly flicked through a file, and dropped it dramatically in front of Max.

“I should really get back to my work. If you want to help, try to find a lead on who kidnapped this woman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sure hope the clarity I'm feeling right now sticks around for a while, I'd love to actually be able to get some form of work done before the next time my consciousness yeets itself out of existence again.


End file.
